Three hundred
and sixty-five
mornings glide by
with you on my
knotted mind.
All the chambers
you’ve claimed in my
love-addled brain,
braiding axons
like dandelion
twine.
Hey, you up there!
You-
tangling snares
too intricate
to unwind.
Don’t you know
what you’ve done?
How I simply
can’t run?
That you pacify
like
the finest
of wines?
pm poetry 